


Drunk Logic and Its Two Awesome Friends

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF, Grey's Anatomy RPF
Genre: Banter, Comedy RPF, Drunk Dialing, Drunk Sex, F/F, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why you don’t get drunk and make fun of people’s breasts, real or fake. Karma will get you! Liberal use of the word "seriously".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Logic and Its Two Awesome Friends

Kate blames the implants. Kate also blames Starbuck for loudly bitching about the Maxim Top 100 Hottest Women List in her presence, which ended up sending Kate’s eyes straight to Starbuck’s implants.

Okay, maybe calling Katee Sackhoff Starbuck to her face was kind of mean, given that in her day, Kate has been “the girl from Drew Carey — no, not the scary fat one. Though weren’t you fat in that?” so Starbuck, or Katee, isn’t doing so bad for someone who isn’t thirty yet.

Also, Kate had been partying, and so partying is maybe, maybe, partially to blame. But Kate loves partying. Loves it like strippers, her man, and being on that Maxim list. Also, it was a party, so who wasn’t partying?

But the implants. The obvious, obvious implants.

Though maybe it _was_ wrong to sing-song out, “Those are fa-ake. Fa-aake hoo-ters. Fa-ake hoooooters” in front of a bunch of LA people. Because who doesn’t have fake breasts in LA?

But now she is hiding out in some producer’s pool house with fifteen empty beer bottles, and a bottle of Patron that Katee totally stole by shaking her hooters at the producer’s nephew or son or whatever.

And now Kate is staring at the implants. Which are, really, pretty good. Not completely unnatural.

This is all their fault.

“You know, I heard that Ben Folds was supposed to be at this party. Or someone good,” Katee complains, lying on the producer’s mistress’s sheets and staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey, just because you don’t know what good is doesn’t mean there’s no one good at this party,” Kate replies. Then she laughs. “Everyone at this party is someone’s fucking kid, friend, or assistant. This party completely sucked before I ran into you, your fake boobies, and your tequila-stealing powers.”

“Shut up, my breasts are real and spectacular!” Katee says with a dramatic bounce and flourish that makes Kate watch the breasts some more. “Man, I need my phone. I’m wasted.”

“Oh, my God, you’re a drunk dialer!” Kate says, loudly and clearly also drunk. “You are a horrible person who makes America a worse place to be, and we should totally drunk dial all your friends. Starting with your most famous co-stars.”

Katee rolls over and props herself up on her elbows and shakes her head. “Eddie Olmos would eat your head if you drunk-dialed him. He is awesome and he is hardcore, but hell no,” she says. “We could call Tricia! She was on the Maxim list, too! She’ll tell you all about how much fun she had posing for Playboy.”

“No, no, let’s call Stands With a Fist,” Kate says, pouring herself another shot to get into the whole drunk-dial deal. “Then we can call the blonde model girl. Oh, and the gay guy!”

Katee looks confused. “Um, isn’t your show the one with the gay guy? We just have English guys, who _are_ all kind of gay,” she says, giggling. “Okay, Mary sometimes answers and talks, and then sometimes she’s like, ‘hey, I’m drawing a boundary, Katee.’ It’s like having a really awesome aunt, who sometimes will say things that are so dirty that you kind of freak. Can we call the gay guy who got the other guy fired?”

“Yes, Starbuck, we can call TR,” Kate says drolly as Katee pulls out her cell and starts dialing away. She throws back another shot. “I better be pretty fucking drunk to even be thinking about this. Can you waggle your new boobs at a bartender again if we run out?”

“MY BOOBS ARE NOT FAKE!” Katee bellows. “And okay, just for that, we have to call the Knocked Up girl first.”

She thrusts her phone at Kate, but to soften the blow, immediately starts pouring more tequila. Kate likes the idea of doing shots while on the phone.

It’s classy, man.

* * *

So now Katee is feeling up her own fake tits, and Kate cannot take her eyes off the spectacle of Katee playing with her boobs while chattering away to all sorts of people.

Her conversation with TR had gone on for half an hour. As far as Kate knows, they’d never spoken before in their lives, but they were talking to each other in West Coast twentysomething code.

“No, she’s foxy. I don’t disagree with Maxim, but bossy!” Kate remembers Katee yelling. But now Katee has stopped feeling herself up, and is trying to get Kate’s attention.

“Mary says to stop fucking calling her,” Katee says, pouting. “Mary is MEAN TO ME! You talk to her and tell her to stop being fucking mean to me!”

Kate starts to laugh as Katee hands her the phone. “Hello? This is Kate. Is this really Mary, or is this, like, a Chinese restaurant or something?” she asks.

“No, this is Mary,” a woman’s voice says. “Could you make Katee stop drunk dialing me when I’m having sex? Or…trying, anyway.”

Kate suddenly wishes that she worked on the Battlestar Galactica set. Also, she knows she will be telling this story up and down her own set for weeks.

“Oh my God, seriously?” she asks as Katee’s hoots heave to and fro.

“Seriously,” Mary says with a hint of humor. “Tell her to STOP CALLING. I will call her when I’m done. Okay? She can tell me all about how her new breasts are really perky afterward.”

Kate can’t stop laughing. Like, it’s getting hard to breathe and she’s choking on her own spit, that’s how hard she’s laughing. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, licking her lips.

“Thank you,” Mary says, hanging up.

Kate looks at Katee and shakes her head. “Stop calling Mary during sex. Also, she called your breasts new. Clearly, you got implants.”

Katee wrinkles her nose and mouth. “Mary says that cuz she got Botox. And so she likes to pretend everyone gets work done,” she says.

“Everyone does, and hers is pretty good,” Kate said. “I mean, let’s compare her to say, Marcia Cross.”

“The scary Housewife from Melrose?” asks Katee immediately.

“Says the star of Bionic Woman,” Kate replies dryly.

“Says a woman whose new show is called Private Practice!” Katee answers. “And who watches strippers. Girl strippers. And drinks. A lot. And talks about vaginas on David Spade.”

Katee then sits up, fumbles over to the bedside table, and throws back another shot of tequila, making a bitch face as she does.

“Yes, because when you like to party — and Kate Walsh likes to par-tay — you drink a lot and do stupid, stupid things,” says Kate, pouring herself a shot. “But I do not make the tequila bitch face.”

“I don’t make the bitch face!” Katee squawks, arms on her hips. “You tell lots of lies, Kate Walsh. Lies upon lies. You say I have implants when these are real, all-natural tits. You say I make the tequila bitch face when I drink tequila. You say that Mary is having sex with her husband while imagining nailing the Jamie right now. All of these things are hideous lies. Hideous lies of evil Kate Walshitude.”

Oh, _now_ it’s on. Kate is decided.

“Wait, wait a minute. I didn’t say Mary imagines nailing Jamie. You just said that, you drunk!” Kate says, appalled and shaking her head. “Also, there is a simple way to prove all of those supposed lies you put on my head.”

“Oh yeah?” asks Katee.

“Sure. One, here is my camera-phone. We’ll give you a shot of tequila. I will take a picture and we’ll see who makes the face of bitch,” Kate says. “Two, my breasts are one hundred per cent pure and natural. We feel mine, then we feel yours.”

“I think I need to be stoned for that,” Katee says, giggling her drunk-ass head off. “Do you have any weed?”

“Does everyone from Vancouver have to be, like, Weedy McSmokey?” Kate asks. “You’re worse than Katie and she hangs out with kids from the WB.”

Katee’s brow furrows, deep in drunk thought, which Kate knows is far, far better than sober thought. Mmm, drunk thought. And its two awesome friends, drunk logic and drunk conclusions.

“How can I be worse than myself?” Katee asks, reaching a classic drunk conclusion.

“I clearly mean Katie Heigl,” Kate says. “Not you.”

“What? How am I supposed to know when we have the same name?” Katee says, sticking her tongue out. “Anyway, okay, let’s use your camera-phone.”

Kate grins. For some reason, this seems like a really good plan, despite it probably being a really bad, drunk plan. “And when Mary calls back to hear about the adventures of your fake breasts, we can ask Mary if she’s into Jamie,” she added.

“You can ask. She’ll kick my ass,” Katee says.

“We’re drunk and she is awesome. She will forgive us,” Kate says confidently. “Kind of like the time TR forgave Katie for asking if he ever imagined teabagging Dempsey.”

Katee thinks about this with Kate’s other old friend, drunk reasoning. “Who wouldn’t teabag Dempsey?” she asks, starting to laugh. “Teabag. Teeeeeeeaaaaabaaaaag.”

Kate cracks up, because the words teabag and Dempsey are, when put together, the funniest words in the English language. “You’re so wasted,” she adds, laughing.

“And I am awesome!” Katee says. “Come on, tequila and cameras, bitchy bitch!”

Kate tosses down two shots, and pulls out her phone. Katee picks up her shot glass and smiles at the phone, sticking out her tongue.

Kate takes a picture.

Despite there being no salt, Katee licks her hand, and downs the shot. Kate takes two pictures of Katee valiantly trying not to bitch-face and…and…damn. Succeeding.

“That’s right! THAT IS RIGHT!” Katee howls when she sees the pictorial evidence of her win. “How do you work your phone? Cuz it’s your turn!”

Kate shows her, and picks up her shot. Not that they’ve agreed to this reciprocity, but Kate figures what the hell. She’s Kate Walsh. She doesn’t make the tequila bitch face.

“Hey, have you ever made out with Katie Heigl?” Katee asks just when Kate is in mid-shot. “TR says it’s on like Donkey Kong.”

Kate chokes. Katee takes a picture that will look far, far too close to a bitch face. Even though it’s really a choking on tequila in shock face because TR is in so much trouble later.

“Donkey Kong?” Kate chokes through a tequila burn.

“Bitch face,” Katee answers, showing Kate a really, really super unflattering picture of herself.

And so, Kate reaches out and squeezes the fantastic pair of not-entirely-real breasts that are swaying in front of her, because really, there’s only one response to that.

“Saline,” Kate says with a smirk.

And then she squeezes them again. Cuz they’re there and all.

“Alkie perv,” Katee says, but she’s clearly kind of out of good insults. “Oh, hey, I get to touch yours now, too.”

Katee immediately does this, but misses one boob entirely. The other hand starts groping.

“Real,” Katee says. “Damn.”

“I’m sorry my breasts are disappointing,” Kate says solemnly.

Katee tilts her head. “They’re not disappointing. They’re just…real. And kind of squishy,” she says. Then her head drops forward and she kind of nuzzles them. With her chin and kind of her nose.

“You are really drunk,” Kate giggles. “Fuck, so am I.”

Katee lifts her head from Kate’s breasts. “Duh,” she says. “How did you not know you were trashed?”

Good question. Good question that Kate’s favorite friend, drunk logic, will have to answer.

“I wasn’t acting like you, and you’re really drunk, so I felt not drunk,” Kate offers. She thinks about it. “That is stupid even for drunk logic.”

“Yeah,” Katee agrees. “Wanna make out? I’m bored and TR bet me that if you got drunk enough, you’d figure out a way to feel me up. I have to call him later and gloat.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna beat the crap out of TR. Well, only if Katie isn’t looking,” she says. “Also, okay, we can totally do that.”

Katee puts her face back in Kate’s breasts. “Sweet,” she says, voice kind of muffled. “Do you have any tattoos?”

* * *

Katee is actually licking Kate’s thigh when the phone goes off.

Katee actually _answers the phone_.

“Seriously!” Kate chokes out, cuz it’s her turn and damn it, she wants more fooling around.

“Hi!” Katee screams into the phone. “It’s Mary! She had sex and all. She can talk to us if you want.”

“Good for her! Tell her you’re busy!” Kate says, making a face.

Katee tilts her head. “I’m kind of busy, Mary,” she says. “Yeah, I’m still partying with Kate. We’re really drunk….hey, that’s sarcasm. I’m too drunk for sarcasm.”

“Oh my god, hang up the phone and fuck me,” Kate says loudly, crossing her arms across her real boobs. “Or I’m telling the whole cast of Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice that you have fake boobs, you had lesbian sex with me, and you stopped having sex with me — a Maxim Hot 100 babe — to talk to Mary McDonnell.”

“Mary is fucking hot, shut up,” Katee says, giggling. “Mary, Kate wants to talk to you. I have to go back to licking her thigh now. You’re awesome for not being too mad at me.”

Katee hands the phone to Kate, who realizes there is drunk sex karma in the universe, and apparently Mary McDonnell is owed a buttload of it. At Kate’s expense.

“Hi,” Kate says.

There’s just thirty seconds of laughter on the other end of the phone. A full thirty seconds, and if Kate wasn’t being touched in a nice way by Katee’s tongue and fingers, Kate might be offended, but Katee seems to have forgotten her phone. She has new fun things to do with her mouth.

“Seriously?” Mary asks.

“Yeah, we’re, um, busy,” Kate says, squeaking because Katee is doing something with her tongue, something intensely awesome and hot-making.

“Okay, then,” Mary says, still laughing. “I’ll leave you girls to it. Also, I would probably not drive yourself home.”

“Thanks,” Kate says. “Um, bye.”

“Say bye to Katee for me,” Mary says, and hangs up.

Which is good, because Kate needs to do things. With Katee.

Right. fucking. now.

“Mary says bye,” Kate says, arching her back and throwing the phone across the room. “Answer me after you finishing doing that, though.”

Drunk dialing should be a felony. Seriously.


End file.
